m is to be made Federal judge in the new district. That's what he's
doing in Washington just now. He is one of those ostensible fellows,"
piped the Doctor. "Ostensibly he's there trying to help land another
man; but Tom's the Van Dorn candidate."

He smoked until his pipe revived and added, "Well, Tom can afford it;
he's got all the money he needs."

Grant, who heard the Doctor's news, did not seem to be disturbed by it.
His mind was occupied with more personal matters. He stood by a pillar,
looking off into the summer day.

"Well, I suppose," he looked at his clothes, brushed the dust from the
top of his shoes by rubbing them separately against the calves of his
legs, straightened his ready-made tie and felt of the buttons on his
vest, "I suppose," he repeated, "I may just as well go now as at any
other time," and he strode down the steps and made straight for the Van
Dorn home.

When he came to the Van Dorn house he saw Margaret sitting alone in the
deep shade of a vine-screened piazza. She wore a loose flowing purple
house garment, of a bizarre pattern which accented her physical charms.
But not until he had begun to mount the steps before her did he notice
that she was sound asleep in a gaping and disenchanting stupor. Yet his
footstep aroused her, and she started and gazed wildly at him:
"Why--why--you--why, Grant!"

"Yes, Margaret," he answered as he stood hat in hand on the top step
before her, ignoring her trembling and the terror in her eyes. "I've
come to have a talk with you--about Kenyon."

She looked about her, listened a second, shuddered, and said with
quivering facial muscles and shaky voice, "Yes--oh, yes--about
Kenyon--yes--Kenyon Adams. Yes, I know."

The eyes she turned on him were dull and her face was slumped, as though
the soul had gone from it. A tremor was visible in her hands, and the
color was gone from her drooping lips. She stared at him for a moment,
stupidly, then irritation came into her voice, as he sat unbidden in a
porch chair near her. "I didn't tell you to sit down."

"No." He turned his face and caught her eyes. "But I'll be comfortable
sitting down, and we've got more or less talking to do."

He could see that she was perturbed, and fear wrote itself all over her
face. But he did not know that she was vainly trying to get control of
herself. The power of the little brown pellets left her while she slept,
and she was uncertain of herself and timid. "I--I'm
sick--well--I--